Blue Christmas
by OnceUponASomeday
Summary: Obligatory Christmas story. Rayna finds a way to steal time with Deacon at Christmas, set during the Teddy years.
1. Chapter 1

**I know I'm always late with these Christmas stories, but every year I just really feel the need to write cute crap about Rayna and Deacon and snow, and then inevitably am too full of Christmas food to manage to be productive in time to post before January.**

 **So merry belated Christmas y'all, and to all a happy Deyna holidays.**

 **(Also I'm toying with posting a second chapter as a flashback of the Christmas mentioned here as the year of the burgers - if anyone would want to read that let me know and I'll give it a go?)**

The entire house was filled with the smell of burnt cookies. Rayna scraped the offending trays of blackened would-be Christmas trees into the trash can, her attempts at baking thwarted by her lifelong inability to remember she'd put anything in the oven. Same went for the stove, the toaster, the grill.

She chuckled to herself, Daphne and Maddie's laughter filling the kitchen as they chased each other around with a piping bag of green icing. She'd managed to rescue one batch and they'd splattered icing on them to cover up how close they'd come to the fate of the others, but it was lucky she'd bought so many pre-made cookies as back-up - no one could ever say she didn't know herself.

'Mom!' Daphne shrieked, her pigtails flying around her face, 'Maddie got icing on my new pajamas!'

Rayna stopped what she was doing and looked at her girls, both covered head to toe in sugary green blobs. She shook her head, trying to suppress a smile.

'Well y'all do look a sight. We might as well put sprinkles on the two of you and eat you.' She tossed the last of the charcoal cookies and deposited the tray on the counter, glancing down at her own attire: worn pajama bottoms, her old favourites, and a questionable Christmas sweater, both of which were dusted with floury prints from small hands.

'We'd _all_ better go clean up, huh?'

The doorbell rang as Rayna was tying the end of the intricate braid in Maddie's freshly-washed hair. Her stomach jumped as she wondered which of their guests it would be - Teddy's mother, she guessed. Her father was ever-punctual for every occasion in his life _other_ than Christmas dinner at Rayna's house, which he opted, without fail, to be late to in some misguided assertion of power. There was no way he'd be the first to arrive, and Tandy was currently on her third glass of breakfast champagne, according to her text half an hour ago, so it was unlikely she'd made it to Rayna's front door so quickly.

Rayna pursed her lips and adjusted her pantyhose, attempting to test how much breathing room she'd have in them for the mammoth Christmas dinner Teddy was preparing downstairs. She heard his voice in the hallway greeting their guest and patted Maddie's shoulder.

'We should go on down, sweetheart,' she told her, and Maddie jumped off the dressing table stool so her mother could take a look at her finished Christmas outfit. 'Perfect,' Rayna declared, smiling as she wriggled and tugged on the hem of her dress. Her eldest daughter didn't enjoy being trussed up in her Christmas best, not one for party dresses and bows. She was so like Deacon in that way, never more his daughter than when she longed to blend in.

Daphne, conversely, was born with a love of the spotlight. She twirled around Rayna's bedroom in the dress she'd picked during their trip to the mall earlier in the week, the sparkliest one in the store, and Rayna watched her spin and spin, singing to herself and showing off the moves she'd been learning in her ballet classes. For someone so small, Daphne was a presence.

/

She'd been right - Teddy's mother, Angela Conrad, was perched cross-legged on one of the couches in the kitchen when Rayna and the girls walked in, his stepfather Beau opposite her, sipping expensive Scotch from a crystal glass. They looked up when Daphne bounced over to them, Angela rising to hug her, albeit carefully. They were careful people, Teddy's family: carefully dressed, immaculately presented at all times, carefully spoken and well-mannered.

'Rayna,' Beau greeted her, air-kissing her on each cheek. 'A merry Christmas to you.'

'And to you, Beau,' she replied, giving him her best festive smile.

Maddie stayed close to her side as they exchanged pleasantries, Angela producing a large bag of gifts she'd paid someone else to wrap, most of which were for the girls, to their delight. Teddy joined them, handing Rayna a glass of chilled wine and putting his arm around her with a wink.

'You're probably gonna need that today,' he said, quietly enough that only she could hear him, and she snickered. Damn right.

Christmas was Teddy's favourite time of year, as much as Rayna knew he too felt the pressure of having their families under one roof. She looped her arm around his back and sipped her wine as she listened to the girls tell their grandparents about school, Daphne landing the lead in her class nativity play, Maddie's guitar lessons.

'Want some help with dinner?' Rayna asked Teddy, and he lifted an eyebrow in mirth.

'It's under control,' he told her, and she nudged him with her hip.

'I don't burn _everything_.'

The doorbell rang again and she handed her glass to him and went to open it, finding Tandy and her husband standing on the steps loaded with presents.

'Well _now_ it's a merry Christmas,' Rayna said, embracing her sister and hustling her into the warmth. 'Jeremy, it's nice to see you.'

'That _dress_ ,' Tandy clucked, motioning to the glitzy number that was making Rayna itch like crazy. 'You're looking hot, sis. You're so tiny.'

'Oh stop,' Rayna chided, accepting the three bottles of red Tandy handed her in one arm and beckoning them to give her their coats with the other. 'I've been eatin' like a horse all winter. I'm about to burst out of this thing.'

Their aunt Margaret arrived next, their father's sister, a formidable woman even Daphne was terrified of, and eventually Lamar, grumbling about the snow just starting to fall. Despite his permanent bad mood when it came to Rayna, he showered his grandchildren with affection and Christmas cheer, and ridiculously lavish gifts that Rayna tried not to side-eye him for.

It took precisely 20 minutes for the men, minus Teddy, who had rolled up his sleeves and popped open his top shirt button and was slicing sweet potatoes, to break away to talk business, their pristinely tailored suits more appropriate for a boardroom than Christmas. Rayna resisted the urge to roll her eyes, eventually failing but hiding it behind a generous glass of wine at least. She stirred a giant jug of eggnog at the kitchen counter while she watched them, Lamar holding court, as always, Tandy's husband regaling him with the details of some deal they were in the middle of making.

Jeremy Hampton had gone to work for Lamar right after he and Tandy had gotten together, his Ivy League education and property empire family ticking Lamar's requisite son-in-law boxes. It was an ideal match in his eyes, a Hampton and a Wyatt, a powerhouse of a marriage. Funny how he'd never thought a guitar player from a one-stoplight town could make a good husband for his other daughter.

'Got enough brandy in there?' Tandy asked, and Rayna startled, realising she'd emptied in the best part of a bottle.

'Oh,' she said, looking away from the impromptu business meeting and shaking off thoughts of Deacon. 'Well hell, maybe it'll get everyone in the Christmas spirit.'

Tandy made sure no one was looking and dipped a manicured fingertip into the mixture, giving a little shiver when she tasted it. 'It's lethal. I completely approve.'

'Want a glass?' Rayna asked, not waiting for her nod. She sipped a little she poured for herself and winced, but the burn felt satisfying as it licked her throat and she relaxed a little.

Aunt Margaret had found a copy of The Tennessean from the day before and sat with her gold-rimmed round spectacles on and her mouth set in disapproval, flat-out ignoring the girls' attempts to get her to play with them. Teddy's mother was less obtuse and humoured their games, but she stayed in her spot on a hard-backed chair with her dainty glass of sherry in one hand all the same, poised stiffly in her two-piece and neat heels.

Daphne had recently turned six and was very into dolls, creating elaborate scenarios for them that she loved to tell everyone in the vicinity about. Maddie, too old for dolls even if she had ever been interested in them - which she hadn't, always favouring musical instruments, to no one's surprise - indulged her little sister at the best of times, but it warmed Rayna's heart to see her trying her best to make up for the stuffy company. She sat on the floor beside Daphne with a princess in one hand and a camouflage Barbie in the other, giving them silly little voices and trotting them around as her sister laughed.

Rayna knew most of the people in the room would prefer her children to sit prettily in their dresses and speak only when spoken to - there was no way she'd entertain the notion, of course. She snickered to herself as Daphne fed hot chocolate to a doll in a ballgown Lamar had given her not half an hour earlier, spilling brown liquid down its chin. There certainly were times, many of them, when it was a good thing that Lamar paid no attention unto whatever didn't serve him.

'One year I'm just gonna run away with them,' she mumbled to Tandy. 'Somewhere the bah humbugs can't find us.'

'Well as long as you take me with you - I'll bring the truffles we pretend we're not allowed to eat the other 364 days of the year.'

Rayna smiled, but she couldn't dislodge the feeling in her stomach. It wasn't new, nor was it reserved for Christmas, but it was stronger this time of year and she found it harder to push it down. She was supposed to be somewhere else, in another life she knew in her bones, one she'd had to leave behind. She wished for Deacon most of all as snow fell and she lived her lie.

Coleman and Audrey arrived after visiting his grandmother in a nursing home across town, and Rayna all but launched herself at them, their genuine, happy faces so welcome. The smell of roasting beef was thick and delicious in the air as she chivvied them down the corridor from the front door, dinner almost ready to be served, and they used the time to help Daphne arrange her dolls into an expectant tea party.

Teddy outdid himself, serving up a feast without so much as breaking a sweat, expertly deflecting Lamar's questioning as to why they didn't hire some staff to do this sort of thing for them. He liked Teddy, very much so, but Teddy was a kind man, more down to earth than Jeremy and far less fixated on status, which unsurprisingly gave Lamar just enough room to divert some insults Rayna's way, one of his favourite pastimes.

They ate until they couldn't manage another mouthful, and Rayna let out a groan, her dress stretching to its limit around her full belly, much to the amusement of her daughters who tried to feed her one last sprout, their Christmas dinner nemesis food.

'I'm in a food coma,' she protested, scooping them up in her arms and kissing their warm foreheads.

'Sprouts are so gross,' Maddie said, 'even when Dad cooks them.' She looked over at Teddy. 'Sorry Dad.'

'They're gross _except_ when your father cooks them,' Rayna amended, 'and they're good for you, all that green. Y'all are gonna be eatin' them for days whether you like 'em or not - there's an army's worth of leftovers in that kitchen.'

She was glad their guests moved into the more formal lounge room after dinner, the sugar cookies and indulgent desserts she'd picked up from a delicious little bakery in Green Hills laid out on a table for them to nibble at. The kitchen was comparatively peaceful as she cleared up at her insistence, her end of the bargain, and she'd felt the daggers her father had aimed at her when she'd let Coleman join her - a guest clearing up? How pedestrian.

'Your husband is quite the cook, Rayna,' Coleman marvelled as he loaded plates into the dishwasher. 'Good thing it wasn't down to you.'

He chuckled but she swiped at him with a dishcloth anyway. 'If it'd been down to me, we'd have all been eatin' out.'

'Do you remember that year you put a ham in and forgot to turn the oven on, and we all sat in the living room for hours before any of us realised?'

The memory flooded back to Rayna in full technicolour and she covered her cheeks. 'How could I ever forget _that_? And even then we only realised because one of y'all got worried it was burnin'.' She laughed loudly. 'Not even close!'

Coleman patted his stomach. 'I can still see poor Deacon runnin' to the store in all that snow to see if he could get one of those pre-cooked turkeys, but the only place open was Wendy's.'

'Burgers,' Rayna rasped, 'on Christmas Day. What a dinner that was!'

' _Cold_ burgers on Christmas Day.'

Rayna shook her head. 'I remember us all bein' so hungry by that point that those burgers were the best things I'd ever tasted, cold or not. And he got the kind with bacon and cheese on top - what more could you ask for?'

'Sure beats your cookin'.'

'Well hey now, it's not like it was just _me_ in charge of that dinner.'

'Well I'll give you that,' Coleman conceded, 'you and Deacon always were as bad as each other in the kitchen.' Rayna nodded, amused that neither of them had gotten a damn bit better over the years. 'Lucky for both of you that you have talents in other areas.'

'Well thank God, or we wouldn't have gotten very far in life.'

As their laughter slowed, they fell into the quiet of the memory; it was as vivid in Rayna's mind as if it was yesterday. She looked around at her big fancy kitchen, at the trays of elaborate food, the ten foot tree in the corner, one of three in the house. They'd gotten the last one in the lot the year of the oven disaster, a spindly thing that everyone else had passed by, and they'd decorated it with a haphazard collection of ornaments and some string lights they'd found in a gas station. They'd been away on tour until Christmas Eve, their gift buying consisting of random things they'd stumbled upon while they were on the road. She remembered their laughter as they'd opened them all the next morning, the combined collection of tacky souvenirs they'd bought each other from the cities they'd stopped at. They'd made love on a crumpled pile of wrapping paper, clearing it up right before their guests had arrived, Audrey and Cole, Vince, their bandmates.

'That was quite a Christmas,' Coleman said, wistful against his better judgement.

Rayna traced a shape in a smudge of flour on the kitchen counter that she'd missed with the dishcloth. 'It sure was.' She cleared her throat. 'Do you think… do you think he's okay today, Cole?'

Coleman looked at her for a moment, but she didn't meet his eyes. 'I think he's Deacon. He'll be scowlin' his way through today just like he does most other days, but he'll be okay.'

'I hate to think of him alone at Christmas,' Rayna said, her voice cracking, as much as she tried to hide it.

'You gonna invite him round here to eat mashed potatoes with your husband and Lamar?' He watched her fold her arms over her chest and look away, point taken. 'He has people he could spend it with, Rayna. He chooses not to. We both know why that is, but there's nothin' you can do about it.'

'I know,' Rayna said, fully aware that Deacon didn't want to partake in the cheer of Christmas because it meant nothing to him without her, only her, and the familiar ache of guilt and longing jumped around her veins in their unwelcome dance. 'I just wish…' She sighed, the kind that hurt, and dropped her shoulders. 'I just wish things worked out the way they were supposed to in life. They way they should.'

Coleman found her hand and squeezed it. 'There is no _should_ , Rayna. There's only what is. And what is, for you, is a husband who loves you and two damn great kids.' She gave him a smile, grateful through her sadness. 'And an asshole father who's probably turnin' his nose up at that expensive port Teddy was about to pour him.'

Rayna laughed. 'That is a sure thing,' she said, and outwardly she shook off her reminiscence and widened her smile, ever the master of the-show-must-go-on. She knew Coleman saw straight through it. 'Why don't you go on back in and I'll finish up here?'

He did, and Rayna watched him leave the room, glad he was an enduring part of her Christmases. She dipped her fingertip in a puddle of gravy on the edge of a plate that she was fairly sure had been hers, and sighed, alone for the first time all day.

Her cellphone was full of messages from people wishing her happy holidays and she scrolled quickly through them, making a mental note to reply later. She stared at Deacon's number on the screen for a full minute when she reached it. The message she wrote was short, but it said what she wanted it to.

 _Thinking of our Christmas burgers and how they made us smile. You're always with me. Merry Christmas, Deacon._

The ping of a reply was instant.

 _Smiling too now that I'm seeing your name. Merry Christmas, Ray._

She let his words punch her in the stomach, the sweet simplicity of them, her breath catching. She wished fiercely, the way she only let herself do when no one else was around and she could momentarily withstand what it did to her heart, that she was there with him. That she was sat on his couch in pajamas and a pair of his socks, some old Christmas movie on TV that neither of them would pay attention to, lights twinkling on the wobbly tree while they huddled under a blanket and picked at leftovers. If only she could will a wish into being. It certainly was strong enough; she closed her eyes for a moment as though maybe it was possible.

She locked her phone and left it beside the coffee machine and gathered herself, smoothing her hair and looping the jokey Christmas apron she'd bought for Teddy over the oven door handle. The lounge was filled with stiff conversation when she walked in, more business chat, Maddie and Daphne sitting quietly in the corner. Their legs weren't long enough to reach the floor and their feet dangled off the edge of their seats; she smiled, longing to scoop them up and add them to her wish. There would be no talk of stock markets and contracts in the Christmas in her mind.

'Now what is this?' she said, clapping her hands together. 'No one's touched these cookies yet? Y'all, they're delicious. I should know, I stole three while I was puttin' them out.' She lifted the plate and held it out to the girls, who happily jumped in.

'Mom,' Maddie said, tugging on her sleeve. 'Could I maybe play the new song I learned this week? The Christmas one? Me and Daphne could sing it for everyone.'

'Oh!' Rayna exclaimed. 'Of course sweetheart - I think everyone would love that.'

She watched Maddie scurry off to get her guitar, one she'd bought for her the Christmas before. It was small enough for her to hold, her initials painted in the bottom corner in beautiful gold lettering, and she hadn't put it down a day since. It filled Rayna with pride to watch her climb back up on the couch next to her and shyly tell the room she was still learning but she thought she could remember the chords.

She could remember them, alright. Rayna listened to every perfect note, Maddie and Daphne's voices blending into the most beautiful harmony, amazed that they were hers, that somehow she'd made these talented little creatures. She'd heard Maddie practice _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ all week, but the finished version left her with a lump in her throat the size of China.

To her joy, everyone else listened keenly too, applauding with enthusiasm when the girls were done, and they grinned, Maddie clutching her guitar and looking up at Rayna. Daphne gave a little bow of her head and giggled, grabbing Maddie's hand and picking up the half-eaten cookie from her knee, stuffing the rest of it in in one go.

'Not everyone gets their own personal Conrad sisters' performance on Christmas Day,' Teddy said proudly, walking over and kissing the two of them on the tops of their heads. 'Unbelievable.'

'Your playing has really come on, Maddie,' Audrey told her, having always been in awe of her ability to play far beyond her years. 'Are you still taking lessons?'

'I am,' Maddie replied. 'Twice a week now. I wanted to progress faster,' she said, sounding like such a tiny adult that Rayna had to dip her head to hide a smile.

'I hope you're paying as much attention to your schoolwork as you are to this,' Lamar chided, gesturing vaguely to her guitar, though he may as well have pointed at it with a neon finger. 'You can already play very well for a hobby.'

'Of course, Grandpa,' Maddie said, but Rayna felt her shift imperceptibly closer to her.

Lamar fixed Rayna with a glare. 'I'm glad to hear it. It doesn't do well to get off track with what really matters. Your mother didn't even go to college, you know.'

'Well Daddy,' Rayna said sweetly, trying her best not to bristle, 'that's because I was touring the country with my first album by the time I was old enough for college.' She looked down at Maddie, whose face was turned up towards her, her eyes wide and dreamy. 'Your schoolwork is important, and your music is important too, baby. I know you're doing really well at _both_. Daphne too.'

She didn't miss the smug look on Lamar's face, happy he'd managed to make her out as a bad example to her children, in his eyes at least. _It's Christmas_ , Rayna chanted to herself, practised in not taking the bait he so enjoyed dangling in front of her whenever he could.

Tandy plopped herself down on the other side of Daphne and patted her small knee. 'I think it might be time for some board games,' she said, looking at Rayna over the girls' heads. 'Anyone for Yahtzee?'

#

The house had been peaceful for a couple of hours, to Rayna's gratitude. Their guests had started to say their goodbyes after several intense rounds of dice throwing and another few helpings of cookies, and Teddy had cleared up the lounge and settled on the couch in the kitchen. Rayna, thrilled to swap her restrictive dress for leggings and a cashmere sweater, joined him, flicking on the TV and finding that _White Christmas_ had just started.

It took Teddy all of ten minutes to start snoring lightly, and she watched him for a while, his mouth open, not a trace of tension or flicker of a bad dream creasing his smooth face. She got up, careful not to disturb him, and retrieved her phone from the counter, and before she started sending off replies to well-wishers she opened Deacon's message again.

 _Smiling too now._

It took her several minutes before she could sit down next to Teddy again.

/

'Did I miss the movie?' Teddy asked, waking as the credits were rolling.

'You sure did, babe,' Rayna told him, reaching up to pluck a stray feather from one of the cushions that had found its way into his hair. 'Why don't you go on up to bed? It's been a long day.'

'Mmm,' he agreed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. 'It has. A successful one though, don't you think?'

She smiled at him. 'No one got into an argument and dinner went down a storm, I'd call that a success in my book. Hey, Daddy almost managed to keep his mouth shut for a whole day - _that's_ a real success.'

'It certainly is,' Teddy said, leaning over to kiss her temple. He stood and rolled his neck to one side to stretch it out. 'Are you coming up?'

'I'll join you in a little while, there are just a couple of things I want to do first.'

'The work of a superstar never stops,' he said with a wink, 'Christmas or not.'

He wasn't angry, quite the opposite, and Rayna felt guilty, though she told herself there was no reason to. She could still just stay right there on the couch, no harm done. 'Well those sprouts just gave me such inspiration for a song,' she said, relieved it sounded convincing, and Teddy laughed.

'Happy writing,' he bade her, so earnestly that she almost broke, and she jumped to her feet as he started to walk away.

She put a hand on his chest to stop him, and looked at him for a long moment. 'Merry Christmas, Teddy,' she whispered. He cupped her cheek; his palm was warm and dry, comforting.

'Merry Christmas, Rayna.'

She reached up and kissed him, and he pecked her lips in return, patting her arm. She stayed rooted to the spot as he made his way towards the stairs, and was still staring after him as he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, balling and releasing her hands, telling herself to sit back down. Write a song, pour some wine, eat some leftovers - anything.

She was in her coat and boots as soon as she heard Teddy's footsteps quiet. Their bedroom was directly above the kitchen and the floorboards creaked faintly when someone walked over them; she listened with the ear of a thief stealing through a half-open window under the cover of shadows. She knew he'd fall asleep straight away, he always did - she'd stopped counting the nights she'd lain awake next to him listening to his even breathing, her own rest a world away. The amount of times she'd bartered and begged with whatever higher being there may be to grant her sleep with even half the peace, to close her eyes and be able to shut everything off. It never worked.

The house was entirely still when she pulled the door in the kitchen closed gingerly and locked it, walking on light feet towards her car. It was parked - thankfully - around the other side of the house, but she left the headlights off anyway until she got out of the drive and onto the narrow road that would take her to the highway. The steering wheel was cold and she gripped it too tightly, her hands losing feeling even with the heat cranked up to full blast; an ice storm was on its way according to the weather report she'd caught on the radio that morning.

East Nashville was alive with lights, houses decked with strings of bulbs and cool blue icicles, giant reindeer and inflatable Santas. The residents had really outdone themselves, she thought as she wound through the familiar streets, remembering with a pang the walks she and Deacon would take every year to marvel at the front lawns turned into grottos, the houses so illuminated they surely could be seen from space. She was glad to see the neighbourly competitive spirit was alive and well.

It had been a long time since she'd been anywhere near this part of town, and she'd missed it, she realised, the feeling of arriving home potent as she turned onto her old street. Nerves gripped her and she half-wished there were no spaces for her to park in, as though it would have been enough of a reason to turn back.

There was a space right outside his house. Of course there was. She laughed as she pulled into it, spying his truck parked opposite. It took her a moment to gather herself and she peered out at the house, wondering whether he would somehow sense her proximity and appear in the window. He didn't, to her relief and disappointment, but there was a dim light on that confirmed he was home.

She'd made a quick pitstop on the way and grabbed the brown paper bag off the passenger seat, tucking it under her arm and balancing a wrapped plate of cookies in her hand. She took one last deep breath and got out of the car before she could talk herself out of it.

Deacon didn't answer her first knock, and she pictured him staring at the door, frowning and wondering who on earth would disturb him at 11.30pm on Christmas Day. She lifted her hand to knock again but the door swung open as her knuckles made contact with it, first a crack, and then all the way.

'Rayna?' he said in disbelief, staring at her without moving aside.

'Hey,' she said with an awkward jazz-hands kind of shrug, suddenly feeling stupid for thinking he would want to see her. She almost bolted, her feet shuffling backwards in uncertainty.

'What are you doin' here?' he asked.

She couldn't think of a single word to say to explain turning up on his doorstep so she held up the bag instead. 'I thought you might be in the mood for a midnight snack. Can I come in? It's kinda freezin' out here.'

His whole face softened and cracked into a smile. 'Of course!' he said, recovering from his shock and standing back quickly, ushering her into the house they'd shared until everything had gone oh so wrong. He stood next to the closed door shaking his head at her, his deep rumble of laughter doing more to warm her stiff body than the fire crackling in the hearth. 'Is that Wendy's?'

Rayna nodded, her smile wry.

'Then you better get over here and open that bag,' he said, waving her towards the fire.

She handed it to him and set the plate down on the coffee table, wriggling out of her coat and letting him take it from her.

'I was just thinkin' about openin' a can of spaghetti hoops. You're just in time.'

She lifted an eyebrow at him. 'How did I know that would be the extent of your Christmas cookin', Deacon?'

She kicked off her boots and lifted her feet towards the flames, her frozen toes thawing back to life. The heat had steamed up the windows, the smell in the room woody and sweet; this house had always smelled that way, guitars and coffee and Deacon, a combination she would know with her eyes closed.

'You're not far wrong,' he admitted, hanging her coat on the rack by the door and plopping down on the couch. She settled next to him as he opened the Wendy's haul and they peered in together at the assortment of paper-wrapped burgers and cartons of fries. She'd stocked up on ketchup and BBQ sauce, naturally, and he grinned at her, reaching in to lift everything out. Despite her over-indulgence all day long, her stomach gave a rumble in response to the ever-enticing smell of grease and bacon.

They didn't ask about the other's day, a silent agreement that they didn't need to acknowledge anything that had come before the sharing of this food and this stolen time. Deacon didn't question how she'd managed to get away, and she didn't offer any explanation - it wasn't needed. The leather of the couch was soft under her and his guitar was propped against the chair opposite and all felt right.

'You got a tree,' she said between mouthfuls, looking over at the corner of the room. It was small and sparsely decorated but it was a tree, and she was surprised. She knew it had been a long time since he'd bothered - the last Christmas they'd spent together, in fact. Maybe he'd given into a little Christmas spirit after all.

'Yeah,' he said, wiping a dollop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth and licking it off his finger, 'you know, felt like the place needed a little life. It's not much.' He shrugged in that self-deprecating way that was so him, and she bumped his shoulder with hers.

'I think it's perfect.'

Deacon studied her face for a moment, a small, pleased smile on his lips, and she felt the flurry in her stomach that was specific only to him. She told herself, an age-old line, that it was just her body's response to him, that he was sat too close to her and he looked so good in his plaid shirt with his clear eyes and the perfect amount of scruff. Her body didn't know she was married to someone else, and it didn't know she wasn't allowed to flush with heat over Deacon anymore, or have her thigh resting against his. No one else looked at her the way he did though, past her eyes and inside her, as though he could see right into her mind. She realised she'd stopped chewing her food and looked away, swallowing it too harshly and hoping that dropping her gaze would mean he couldn't see the rest of the thoughts she definitely should not be having.

Ten minutes alone with Deacon Claybourne and she could barely control herself. She coughed as the bite of burger lodged itself in her throat and he jumped up, reappearing with a glass of water for her. She gulped it gratefully and set the rest of the burger down, leaning back into the cushions.

'Damn bacon,' she croaked, patting her chest, 'it went the wrong way.'

He laughed. 'Want some fries to wash it down with?'

She watched him scarf the rest of his burger and another after it as he told her about a feud that had been happening further down the street, a new neighbour wreaking havoc with the family who were famed every year for their Christmas decorations.

'They had a full-on nativity scene on their lawn, a musical baby Jesus, three wise men on ice skates whizzin' around him, the whole deal,' he told her, enjoying the story.

'How did I miss that one when I was drivin' over here? We're gonna have to go back out there and take a look.'

Deacon wiped his mouth on a napkin and popped three fries in at once. 'That's just the thing - it ain't there anymore. Baby Jesus got abducted last week, in the middle of the night.' He laughed heartily at the absurdity of it. 'They were so pissed they tore the whole thing down, and the neighbour swears he didn't do it but he's been standin' out on his lawn every day lookin' triumphant as hell.'

Rayna lost herself in laughter along with him, happy to see him so lighthearted. She picked up some fries and dipped them in the pot of ketchup he was balancing on his knee.

'I wonder which dumpster baby Jesus is spendin' Christmas in,' she mused, nibbling on them.

'He's probably pride of place in that guy's house, a damn trophy. And I ain't kiddin' - the family have offered a reward for its return.'

'A _reward_? For a doll?'

'Not just any doll, Ray,' Deacon countered, mock-serious, 'the symbol of _Christmas_.'

'Hell, Daphne has a world of dolls, shall I go pick one up and we can take it over there? They can wake up to Jesus in a pink tutu, I'm sure they'd love that.'

'Does she have one of the kind that pees itself?'

She snorted, and took another swig of water. 'You gonna take part next year? Truss up your house and compete with 'em?'

'Oh I'm thinkin' about it.' He picked up her abandoned burger and bit into it. 'Hey, you any idea where I can get some real reindeer?'

/

Somehow it was 2am, and the fire was burning low, spitting the hardiest of of its embers out across the stone hearth. Deacon played soft notes of an old Christmas country song Rayna half-recognised, and she murmured along, eyes closed, head sunk into the worn leather.

Greasy wrappers were strewn across the table among empty mugs of hot chocolate and crumbs from the leftover cookies she'd decorated with the girls - his face had lit with delight when she'd told him they'd made them. The little white lights on the Christmas tree blinked gently, hypnotising her as she half-watched them. She didn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed, and she let an unguarded sigh slip from her lips as tendrils of sleep tried to pull her under.

'I should go,' she said with a little groan of protest. She didn't move though, and Deacon kept playing.

'It's real cold out,' he said, voice soft, 'there's frost on the windows now.'

She turned to look - he was right: silver webs crept from the corners of the window panes, making their way toward the centre of the glass. 'Oh,' she cooed at the beauty of them, but curled a little tighter at the thought of stepping out of their warm haven.

'Hey, I almost forgot,' she said, getting to her feet. She rummaged in her coat pocket, hopping from one foot to the other at the chill that found its way underneath the frame. The cushions were still warm from her body heat when she jogged back to them, and she burrowed in and held out two wrapped packages, one neatly, one less so.

'What are these?' Deacon asked, taking them from her in surprise.

'Open them. That one's from me, and the girls got you this one.' She gestured to the haphazardly folded sparkly paper, the message they'd written filling every bit of space on the tag they'd taped to it. _Merry Christmas Uncle DEACON,_ it read, _love from Santa (but really from Maddie + from Daphne AGE SIX}_

Deacon ripped off the paper, encountering an overload of tape, much to his amusement. Rayna watched him, her heart expanding at his obvious happiness.

'Oh! he exclaimed when he eventually got into it, holding up a small, black porcelain ornament in the shape of a treble clef.

'It's for the tree I didn't think you had,' she told him. 'They picked it out themselves. I told them you didn't usually decorate but they were adamant that they wanted it for you anyway.' She paused, thinking of their excitement as they raced to the checkout in the store to pay for it. 'They must have known.'

'It's beautiful,' Deacon said, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 'I can't believe they thought of me.'

Rayna touched his knee gently. 'Of course they did. And believe me, they would have been over here playin' you every single Christmas song they've learned if I'd given them half the chance. They love you a lot, Deacon.'

He caught her hand as she pulled back and clasped it, and for a brief moment - though it felt as though it was stretched, elongated in its intimacy - their hands rested together on the sliver of leather between them.

'I love them too, Ray. I'll get a tree every year from now on just so I can hang this on it.'

He meant it, she knew, the thought the girls had put into their gift for him having more impact on him than they could possibly know. He let go of her hand and crossed to the tree, looping the ornament's string around a sturdy branch near the top and stepping back to survey it. Rayna allowed herself a fraction of time, a few illicit seconds, to picture them here, the four of them a family, sharing Christmas together. No frost waiting for her outside, no bed in a house all the way across town, no need to leave him when it was the very last thing she wanted to do. Her and Deacon, together, curling up in his arms, celebrating snow and Santa and stolen baby Jesus dolls. The way it was supposed to be.

If he caught the look on her face, any betrayal from her eyes, wretched things, so quick to give away her secrets to him, he didn't say a word.

'The girls loved the gifts you got for them too,' she told him when she trusted herself to speak, 'thank you.'

'I'm glad,' he replied. She was twisted towards him, and she wondered if she shouldn't be, if she should politely edge away. 'It was easy findin' somethin' for Maddie, she loves her music so much, but Daphne… Imagine me in a toy store tryin' to pick out somethin' a little girl would like - I didn't manage to hide how out of my depth I was, put it that way.'

Rayna laughed, her fondness for him threatening to overwhelm her. She didn't edge away - she didn't even stay where she was. Her body moved closer to him, the image of him uncomfortable and so well-meaning in a sea of pre-Christmas parents and over-hyped children one she wanted to savour.

'This one's from you?' he asked, touching the other package tentatively, and she nodded.

'It's just a little something,' she said, suddenly shy.

He unwrapped it slowly, stretching the moment out, and when the cassette tape fell out into his hands he turned it over, looking for an explanation of its contents.

'It's a recording of our first tour,' she said, turning it onto its side and showing him the letters in her writing: _Home, New Orleans show_.

It had been the name of one of her early albums and their first headline tour, so long ago and yet forever inked into her memory with a freshness she knew it would never lose. That night had been the first time he'd asked her to marry him, in the bed on their tour bus as they'd driven to the next town, not a stitch of clothing between them and a sweet, heady air streaming through the open bus windows and cooling their hot skin.

Two kids, they'd been, and he'd held her hand to his chest as the words had left his mouth, knowing she couldn't possibly say yes, not intending for her to. It had been a promise more than a question, one she'd answered with a kiss that had left him reaching for her all over again, a promise that one day he would ask her for real. And he had - in various states over the years, some that he remembered, some that he didn't, to Rayna's pain. That night remained untainted though, feathered with innocence; it would always be the first, the one that sealed a love that was for always.

'Where did you get this, Ray?' he breathed, stunned.

She traced its spine. 'Let's just say, I dug for it.'

'Wow. This is… I can't believe you found this.' He looked up at her and she saw him remember. _Marry me, baby. Marry me right here on this damn bus._ 'Wow, Ray.'

'It's quite a listen,' she said, her throat thick. 'We were babies.'

'We really were. What was this, '92? '93?'

'About then, yeah. Practically prehistoric.'

He looked at it for a long time, the piece of their history, holding it carefully in his hands as though protecting the memories it held. 'Thank you,' he whispered, and when he looked up at her she was sure his eyes were wet.

'You're welcome, Deacon.'

'I got you somethin' too,' he said, getting up and pulling open a desk drawer. 'I wasn't sure whether to give it to you, I thought... ' He held out a large, square package wrapped in brown paper, his familiar scrawl in the top left hand corner.

 _For you._

'Is it a record?' she asked, and he said nothing, just sat down next to her and waited.

She peeled off the tape, pulling back the paper. She was right - it was an old vinyl, and her heart jumped when she turned it over and saw her mother's face, a picture she didn't know on a faded cover.

'It's an original, an album she never released. I found it at that old record store on Gallatin, no idea how it's managed to make its way there. I'd never seen it before. I thought you'd want to have it.'

Rayna didn't know what would come out if she opened her mouth, so she didn't. She held the record tightly to her chest and threw an arm around Deacon, burying her face in his neck. He brought his arms around her and rubbed her back, soothing her, setting her alight, and she stayed there until she felt she could bear to let go of him.

'I've never seen this before,' she managed to say, 'I didn't even know it existed. This is… only you could find this, Deacon. Only you could ever give this to me.'

He bit the insides of his cheeks and took her face in his hands, the kiss he pressed to her forehead one she knew would have to last her until she could allow herself this again, this break from her restraint that she'd had to so carefully build.

And somehow they didn't matter so much, all the Christmases they'd missed. They'd written a new one, together, by a spindly tree with one ornament, ketchup packets and burnt cookie remnants all around them. Everything outside the frosted windows would be waiting for them the next day, and she would have to leave him and drive on the deserted roads away from him long before she could ever want to, but they would always have this, and it meant anything was possible.

As she looked up at the house from the driver's seat of her car an hour later as snow started to pepper the ground in earnest, her mother's undiscovered record on the seat next to her, Deacon stood in his doorway. She knew as she waved to him and watched him nod his goodbye that she would be back again next year, and the years after that, Christmas Day burgers in a brown paper bag under her arm.


	2. Chapter 2

They spent Christmas morning in bed.

The month of December had been a whirlwind of shows and roads, a whistlestop tour of twelve states, exhilarating and exhausting and exactly where they belonged. Rayna's second studio album was shooting up the charts, the venues getting bigger and the crowds louder: she was Making It, as the record label execs kept telling her with a gleam in their eyes. The hard work of the past few years was starting to pay off on a whole other level, and home - Nashville, their little craftsman house on Boscobel - was something they hadn't seen much of lately.

Their truest home, though, was with each other. It was on their tour bus, their driver Barb singing Hank Williams tunes out of key up front; it was a hotel room they would make their own for a handful of hours and never see again; a booth in a dive bar on the high of another show.

All the same, it felt _good_ to be in their own bed. The tour was on pause for the holidays, and they'd be in town for a whole week and a half, the first real time off they'd had in a year. Christmas spirit was heady in the city, colourful lights greeting them as they'd arrived back in Nashville the night before, the bars and streets alive with Christmas Eve celebrations. They'd made a brief stop for groceries and an emergency tree, beelining for home as quickly as they could.

Their house had been enveloped in a chill when they'd opened the door, empty of their presence for too long, and they'd raced straight for their bed and each other, warming the room with their body heat. It had felt decadent, privacy after weeks of cramped space with their buddies in Rayna's band, soft sheets in place of bleached and boiled motel linens, and they'd pulled the covers over their heads and chatted in whispers until they'd fallen asleep.

Morning light had arrived with a frost that covered the windows and hung in the air, nipping at any warm skin it could reach.

'Maybe we should just stay here all day,' Rayna said, half-serious, her head propped up on two pillows - hers and Deacon's. Deacon, with no pillow, was resting his head in the impossibly soft groove between her breasts, far preferable to him anyway.

'Mmmph,' he said, 'you know I'm down for _that_.' He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist. 'Everyone can go round to Vinny's place, they'd love that. Beer for Christmas dinner.'

Rayna snorted. 'He drinks PBR. We can't do that to them.' She brushed her fingers through his hair and he twisted his head to look at her, his chin on her chest. 'We're gonna have to get up.'

'Damn,' he whispered, flirting with her. 'Well there go my plans.'

'Your plans? And now what would those be?' Rayna asked, a little breathlessly, as he trailed his fingers down her side and slipped a hand under her ass.

'I couldn't possibly say,' he murmured, circling his tongue around her nipple and sliding slowly down her body. 'Just know, baby, that if we were stayin' in here all day, I'd need a little nourishment.' He breathed into her belly button and moved lower, leaving wet kisses as he went. 'I ain't had breakfast…' He eased her legs apart, and lifted his head to lock eyes with her. 'An' I'm _starvin'_.'

His mouth was on her hungrily before she could say a word, and she jerked against him, her hands flying to his hair. She closed her eyes and let him do things to her that only he possibly could, forgetting all notion of going anywhere at all.

/

By the time Rayna's legs would support her enough to take a shower, Deacon had unpacked both of their suitcases and started frying up some eggs and bacon. She walked into the kitchen to find him humming happily to himself, the old radio that lived on the shelf above the stove tuned to her favourite station. Nat King Cole was singing about turkey and mistletoe, the sounds of the spitting pan and the whistling kettle accompanying him.

'Hey baby,' he said brightly, handing her a mug and raking his eyes over her appreciatively. 'Made you some coffee.'

'Mmm,' she said, taking it from him with a kiss, 'thank you. I need this.'

Deacon chuckled. 'It's been quite a month, hasn't it?'

'It's been quite a _year_.' She snagged a crispy piece of bacon from the pan and jumped up on the counter next to him, swinging her bare legs. 'I can't believe how much we've done.'

'It sure has been one for the books. I got a feelin' next year is gonna be even crazier.' He flipped the rest of the bacon over with a spatula and gave the eggs a little jiggle, Rayna watching him. 'You look sexy as all hell in my shirt,' he remarked, stepping between her knees and looping a strong arm around her waist.

She draped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him. 'I don't think our guests would be so appreciative if I kept this on.'

She'd only fastened a few buttons, and Deacon toyed with the top one, plenty low enough to give him a good eyeful of her full breasts. 'Better take it off then,' he smirked, and she laughed huskily. He let his index finger slide in and out of the space between them and Rayna let out a little whimper. 'It's a very merry Christmas for _me_ ,' he breathed, lingering close to her face.

She pulled him to her by the neck of his t-shirt and kissed him hard, and he dropped the spatula and pressed closer to her, both arms around her waist. When they finally pulled apart they were breathing heavily and the bacon was hissing with impatience, splashing fat across the stove top.

'Shit,' Deacon grunted, untangling himself from Rayna and flicking the heat off quickly, and she sniggered.

'Concentration, Deacon, come on now.'

He grinned and flicked a towel at her, and she reached over and snagged his fork, spearing some piping hot eggs.

'Oh my God,' she said, mouth full, 'these are so good. I'm _starvin'_.'

Deacon watched her for a moment, and she tipped her head at him in question. He stepped back between her legs and took the fork from her, dragging both pans closer, and started to feed her, and then himself.

They stole kisses between mouthfuls, their tongues salty and warm, and Rayna picked up pieces of bacon as it cooled, lowering them to Deacon's mouth, laughing as he licked her fingers.

'We'd better not try to cook dinner this way,' she said when they'd demolished everything, 'we'd never get it done.'

'Everybody's gettin' here at 2pm, right?' At her nod Deacon lifted her up off the counter and she hooked her legs around his waist. 'So we got a bit of time.' He carried her into the living room, hands securely under her butt, and set her down in front of the Christmas tree.

'I almost forgot we got this,' Rayna said, eyeing the poor thing. It had been the very last one on the lot the night before, and they'd got there just as the guy was packing up to head home for Christmas. He'd taken ten dollars for it, looking at them as though they must have been out of their minds, and they'd lovingly taken it home and carried it into the house, propping it up in the corner of the room. It was leaning a little to one side, looking like it had given up before it had even begun.

Deacon stood behind Rayna and rested his chin on her shoulder, and she leaned back into him. 'Looks kinda hungover, don't it?'

She laughed. 'I don't know if we should decorate it or put it out of its misery.'

'Wanna burn it for firewood?'

They fished out a box of string lights and the assortment of ornaments that had been the last ones on the shelves in a deserted gas station Barb had pulled into the night before. They were the stragglers: a little cowboy boot with red fringing and a chip missing out of the toe, a cross-eyed reindeer, a wooden trio of wise men carrying a crate of Bud Lite and a joint in place of frankincense and myrrh.

Deacon set about lighting a fire in the hearth while Rayna slid an old vinyl onto the record player, and scratchy Christmas songs filled the room, joined by the smokey tang of fresh, slightly damp wood. They sang along while they plugged the lights in and oohed at their pale blue glow, Deacon wrapping them around a protesting Rayna before they made it onto the tree, turning the wilted branches into twinkling arms.

'We didn't get a star,' she said in dismay, hanging the last of the ornaments and stepping back to survey their work. 'Oh but it looks _pretty_ now.'

'It sure does. Our very own rescue tree.' He smiled as Rayna reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 'I think I know what we can put on the top.'

He disappeared into the bedroom and Rayna snorted when she saw what he returned with: a copy of her album, her smiling face on the front.

'Let me just wedge this in here,' he said, balancing it precariously at the very top. 'There - now we got a star on the tree.'

'You are the cheesiest person I've ever met,' she told him, and he winked.

'Don't you forget it, Ray. We're leavin' it up there, by the way.'

'Oh are we?'

He snickered. 'Well you ain't tall enough to get it down, baby, and I think you look cute on a Christmas tree, so yup.'

She swotted him and he caught her in his arms and dipped her dramatically, kissing her as she laughed, her hair trailing the floor.

'You're crazy, Deacon Claybourne,' she said when he set her back on her feet, her head spinning, eyes warm, and she leaned her head on his shoulder and revelled in being close to him. Quiet moments together, just the two of them, had been rare in the past few weeks and they both soaked in the chance. They watched the lights on the tree ebb and flow, the fire hissing rhythmically. It was their first Christmas in the house, the others spent in the old apartment they'd shared with Vince, aside from a rogue one in a hotel room somewhere just outside of Phoenix after a Christmas Eve show it had been too late to get home from. It would be the first time they'd had their friends over for Christmas dinner, and they were excited, keen to make sure it was a memorable one.

'Wanna open some presents?' Rayna asked, and she led Deacon to the couch when he nodded, and plopped down on the cushions, right next to two bags they'd filled with gifts for each other.

'Let's see what we have here,' he said, chuckling as he emptied everything out. They'd challenged each other to buy exclusively from gas stations, and it had turned into a race to get in there first with each stop they made on the road. They'd amused themselves with their choices, opting for the tacky and the ridiculous, and the giftwrap options were no less part of the challenge.

'Is this wrapped in a toilet seat cover, Deacon?' Rayna asked wryly, holding up a suspiciously slippery package.

'You bet it is,' he said, amused at himself. 'Unwrap it and you'll see why.'

She pulled tape off the cover, the kind they'd only been lucky enough to come across in a few select gas stations, the rest being squat-and-see kind of bathrooms, and a pair of panties emblazoned with I PEED IN VEGAS fell out.

'Deacon!' she squealed, remembering what they'd _actually_ done in that Vegas bathroom. Her cheeks flushed at the memory.

'I figured they'd replace the ones you lost in there.'

'Oh _I_ lost them? 'Cause see how I remember it is that _you_ took 'em off and launched 'em so far they went right over the top of the stall.'

Deacon, pleased with himself, sniggered. 'I got a good arm.'

'And an aversion to my underwear?' Rayna lifted an eyebrow at him. 'I'm pretty sure I've lost half my panties over the years thanks to your good arm.'

'Damn right, baby.'

She lifted herself to her knees and held the Vegas underwear up to her hips, wiggling them back and forth for his benefit. 'But now I got these.' Deacon snorted and rose to kiss her, laughing against her lips. 'Until you throw 'em off somewhere, anyway,' she said, hooking an arm around his neck and kissing him back.

They tackled the rest of the pile, uncovering gifts that grew more ridiculous as they worked their way through them, souvenirs of their time on the road, most of which they'd never be able to explain to anyone else. Deacon's favourite was a tiny finger guitar that made him look like a giant, much to Rayna's amusement, and he played her some tunes, singing along in a high pitched squeak until she laughed so hard she snorted. He'd borrowed someone's pink ukulele one night on the road and had had Rayna and the band, in their overtired, exhilarated state, in stitches with his comical singing; when she'd seen the even smaller version she'd known it would be a winner.

Rayna's favourite, on the other hand, was a little bundle of postcards Deacon had put together and tied with string, one for each place they'd played a show on the tour. He'd written her a message on the back of every single one and noted his favourite memory from each stop; she read over them for a long time, reading out his anecdotes - funny ones, sexy ones, poignant ones, beautiful observations that only Deacon could capture.

'I love you,' she told him, torn paper and discarded ribbons falling off the couch in a flurry as she climbed onto his lap and pulled him close.

'I love you too Ray,' he murmured, taking a moment to tuck her hair off her face and just look at her.

'I think we finished them all,' she said, happily surveying the mess that surrounded them. 'We should probably do somethin' about this place, huh? Anyone would think it was Christmas in here.'

'Hmm,' Deacon said, dropping his voice low and hovering by her ear, 'I ain't quite done yet. I got one present left to open.' She pulled away to look at him quizzically and he gave her a flash of a smile. 'I got a serious weakness for unwrapping redheads in my shirts.'

'Oh yeah?' Rayna purred as he stroked his hand teasingly up her thigh, her stomach flooding with heat.

'Oh yeah.' He grasped her hips, fingers gentle, and eased her back onto the couch, and she hummed, holding eye contact with him. She held onto his strong biceps as he laid her down on the pile of wrapping paper debris, a smile on her lips, Bing Crosby crooning in the background.

'In fact,' Deacon continued, fingering the highest button she'd done up, low between her breasts, 'this is my favourite gift of all to unwrap.'

He popped the button through its hole, and another, watching the path of creamy skin he was exposing.

Rayna's heart quickened, and she felt his fingertips graze her belly button. Deacon looked between her face and her body, his expression that of someone about to devour a particularly delicious steak. 'Mmm,' he hummed approvingly, and Rayna bit her bottom lip, head tilting to the side, watching him in fascination.

He opened the last button, and made a slow show of spreading the sides of the shirt, clearly relishing the view: her smooth stomach, slightly parted upper thighs. He moved the material over and away from her breasts, and Rayna was hyper-aware that her fast breathing made them rise and fall, his eyes captivated by their tremble. He peeled the waistband of her panties down over her hips; she lifted them and he expertly whipped them down her legs and, true to his reputation, flung them across the room.

She watched him as he licked his lips, and he looked into her eyes as his palms glided from her hips up over her ribcage, cupping a breast in each hand. He grunted softly as he covered them, massaging them just enough to make her arch her back involuntarily to push them further into his grasp. She raised her arms above her head and gazed up at him, wrapping paper crinkling underneath her bare ass, a smile on her face.

Deacon wedged a knee between her legs and bent his head. He laved her nipple with his tongue, watching it pucker before he sucked it into his mouth, his thumb rolling over the other, and when his straining erection brushed against her thigh Rayna cursed.

'Deacon,' she urged, and he freed her breasts and kissed her urgently, groaning when she pulled him back down on top of her.

'Damn baby,' he rasped as he sucked on her neck and moved his hand between her legs, delighted to find her wet. Two of his fingers slid easily inside her - she'd already taken him in twice during the morning, and his tongue had thoroughly explored her after that; she was swollen and ready for him again.

She was also feeling too impatient for much foreplay. 'Off,' she commanded of his boxers, breathless and with the look on her face that he knew oh so well - _fuck me, now_ , it said, and his painfully hard dick was only too happy to oblige. He shed the boxers quickly, spreading her legs and taking himself in his hand, intent on teasing her just as much as he could get away with. He kissed her, a smoky, lingering kiss, and rubbed his penis through her folds, up and down, her moisture coating him, her breath coming in pants.

She was still in his shirt, and something about the prospect of fucking her with it on felt so sexy that he could barely control himself. 'Is it this you want, Ray?' he asked, pushing his tip inside her and letting it sit there, heavy and throbbing in her entrance. She whimpered, almost coming at the feeling, and managed to nod her head.

She knew Deacon's weaknesses though, and she slipped a hand down between their bodies and rubbed her clit, looking up at him with wide eyes. He _loved_ when she touched herself, and she made sure to stroke his length for good measure, deliberately not trying to push him further inside her. She knew he'd do that all by himself, unable to help it, and she was right: he hissed, covered her fingers with his and held them against her clit as he thrust himself into her hard, as deep as she could take him.

She was hot and tight and he dropped his forehead onto hers and stilled for a moment, both of them enjoying the intensity of the feeling. He started to move when she grasped his ass, knowing she loved to cup it while he pushed in and out of her. He gave her some hard thrusts mixed with shallow ones, and she pulled her knees up a little, opening herself up to him so he could go deeper.

'Jesus,' he gasped into her mouth, 'this is the best fuckin' Christmas ever.'

She laughed, a husky, milkshake sound that she only made when she was turned on to all hell, and looped her arms around his neck to pull his full weight onto her. She kissed him between her cries, their breath mingling, tongues and teeth adding to their pleasure.

He pulled himself all the way out of her and paused to push his glistening dick all the way back in, repeating the motion a few times, so hard and she so wet it took no guidance from either of their hands. She grasped her own breasts, pinching her nipples and digging her nails in just enough to leave white crescent marks on her flesh, lifting her head just enough to watch what he was doing to her, and he could only manage the sight of her massaging herself and the sensation of her swallowing him back in for a few moments longer.

'Mmmfuck,' she cried when he gripped her thighs and pressed himself into her. He felt her gush around him and her moans became high pitched and urgent, her legs locking around his hips. He pulsed against her in the spot that made her come without fail, and she lost all capacity to form words, clinging to him as he panted heavily and fucked her with abandon.

She came _hard_ , her fingernails digging into him driving him past the point of all control, and he burst inside her, hot come rushing into her, the sensation prolonging her own orgasm until she saw stars behind her eyelids. Deacon held her tight, moving without rhythm until they both came back to themselves, and she wrapped her arms around him and murmured nonsense while they let their breathing slow.

'Deacon…' Rayna said, looking up at the shadows the twinkling tree lights were making on the ceiling, his head resting in the crook of her neck, face-down, lips pressing open mouthed kisses there. 'I think there's a bow on my foot.'

Sure enough when he glanced down, a red bow was sticky-taped to her ankle, making her look like quite the Christmas present: naked but for his shirt, a sheen of sweat coating her skin, still cradling him inside her.

'You're the gift that just keeps on givin', baby,' he smirked, reaching down and snagging the bow. He propped himself up on his elbow and attached it between her breasts, and she shook her head at him.

'You better watch out, Deacon, or I'll wrap that toilet seat cover where you don't want it.'

/

The first knock at the door came as Rayna was sliding a joint of beef into the oven, Deacon peeling potatoes next to her.

'That'll be Vince,' he said. 'You know he's always early where there's food involved.'

He was right: on their front steps when he opened the door stood a Christmas-sweater-clad Vince, a bag of presents in one hand, crate of beer under the other arm. A blast of cold air entered with him and Deacon chivvied him inside, greeting him with their customary man-hug, no eye contact made during and a slap on the back after. Rayna smiled, always enjoying their small displays of affection, and their awkwardness at expressing it.

'Nice apron, man,' Vince said, side-eyeing Deacon, who looked down at the elf costume plastered on the front of it and grinned.

'Merry Christmas Vince,' Rayna said warmly, dropping an oven mitt on the kitchen counter and pulling him into an embrace. 'Oh you're _freezin'_. Come stand by the fire.'

He obliged, handing the beers to Deacon and setting his gifts down on the coffee table, and Rayna passed him an eggnog she'd tried her hand at making.

'Holy shit, Rayna,' he said, taking a healthy sip, 'little more nog than egg in this, huh?'

She laughed, having sampled a little too much herself already, her cheeks pink from the fire and the rum. 'It was my first time. I went a little crazy.'

'You ain't made eggnog before?'

'Nope. You and Deacon always made it in our old place, you never trusted me, remember?'

Vince winced on the back of another sip and cleared his throat. 'I don't know why that coulda been, doll.'

He settled himself on the couch, feet up. The three of them had lived together for several years, still spent more time on a tour bus with each other than in either of their houses, and Vince was a regular fixture in the new house. The couch may as well have his ass print in the cushions, Deacon often remarked.

'Oh,' he said, wedging himself up just enough to reach under his butt. 'Sat on a bit of wrapping paper.'

'Babe,' Rayna hissed at Deacon, who didn't so much as try to hide his snigger, giving him an elbow to the ribs, but she smiled all the same as she tossed his peeled potatoes into a pot of water.

'So we're back for two whole weeks,' Vince said, swilling his glass. 'I don't even remember the last time we had two weeks off.' He twisted towards them. 'Wanna make some music?'

Rayna laughed softly. 'None of us are very good at time off, are we?'

'I don't even know what it is. What do people do with it?'

'Other people probably do normal people shit,' Deacon said, leaning over Rayna to get to the pile of vegetables still to be chopped. 'Spend time with their families, read a book, take in a movie. You, though, Vinny - exactly what you do while we're on the bus: fart, eat, sleep.'

Vince got up and wandered over to the counter, perching himself on one of the stools on the other side of it so he was facing them. 'You got me all wrong Deac.'

'Oh yeah? You gonna shock us all and go see your mama these holidays, maybe learn how to read?'

He snorted dismissively, reaching over to pluck a carrot from Rayna's growing pile of neatly cut batons and crunching it loudly. 'Hell no. I'm gonna eat _then_ fart, and then sleep.'

/

Bucky turned up next, carrying a plate of chocolate tart he'd somehow found time to make, Cole and Audrey pulling into a parking space on the other side of the street as Rayna was ushering him inside.

The more their guests piled in, the warmer the house got, the windows steaming up with their collective body heat, most notably when Barb bowled through the door, several bottles of bourbon in tow.

'For the festivities,' she said in greeting, hitching the bottles under one arm and dishing out efficient, bone-cracking hugs for each of them.

It was comforting, the chatter and holiday cheer filling the room, the spit and bubble of the pots on the stove. Rayna settled herself on the couch, her belly warm and happy, and lost herself in conversation with Audrey, the hours slipping into early evening, Deacon wedged in next to her, his arm around her. They'd never had so many people in their house at the same time, and each was as happy about it as the other.

'It's turnin' out well, Ray,' Deacon whispered into Rayna's ear, as Vince was regaling their group with a story about one of the many times he'd almost missed the bus to their next tour stop thanks to a blonde and a hangover.

'Mm,' Rayna agreed, her cheeks rosy red, 'it's my favourite Christmas yet.' She kissed his cheek and laughed at his expression. 'I know, I know, I say that every year. But I mean it - every Christmas with you is just perfect.'

'Now who's the cheesy one?' he teased, leaning in to kiss her properly, drawing wolf whistles from Vince and Barb, always reliably rowdy.

'Get a _room_ ,' Vince said, mock-disapproving, 'I ain't needin' to see y'all pullin' each other's Christmas crackers.'

'Wouldn't be nothin' you ain't seen before from these two,' Barb chimed in, chuckling into her pint glass of eggnog.

Rayna turned to Audrey and Cole. 'Lies, all of them,' she said, but Deacon's dirty laughter gave her away.

/

It was almost dark outside by the time Deacon got up to check on dinner.

'Hope y'all are hungry,' he said as he lifted lids off simmering pans and checked how everything was getting on. 'This beef should be done any minute now, and it's a hella big one.' He slipped his hand into a mitt and turned around to open the oven door… and stopped in his tracks. 'Um… Ray?'

Rayna got up from her cosy spot, with effort, and padded over to the kitchen. 'What is it babe?'

She was greeted by Deacon's panic face. 'The meat...'

'Oh my God,' Rayna exclaimed, peering through the oven door and covering her mouth. 'Why is it still raw?'

'We didn't turn the oven on, baby.'

She stared at him in horror for a moment, a suspended silence falling over the room, until their guests erupted in laughter.

'Leave it to y'all two to pull off a raw Christmas dinner,' Coleman howled, coming over to witness the offending creation.

Vince pulled himself up to sit on the arm of the couch. 'You know you gotta use _heat_ to cook shit, right? Did you think that cow just wandered in there for the fun?'

'I can not believe we forgot to turn the Goddamn oven on,' Rayna said, mortified. 'Between the two of us, neither one of us noticed it wasn't on? How did we miss that?'

Deacon, his face serious, started to smile, slowly at first and then wider, laughter taking over, until he was bent double. 'Baby,' he wheezed, 'I think we were distracted by other things.'

'Oh my God,' Rayna groaned, still not quite seeing the humour of the situation. 'What are we gonna eat?'

'Well there are a hell of a lot of carrots here,' Bucky said, looking at the contents of the crowded stove top.

Rayna covered her eyes with her hands, squeezing the bridge of her nose. 'Y'all I am so sorry. This is a disaster.'

'Pff,' Barb said, a firm, if clammy, hand clasping Rayna's shoulder. 'We've been in worse situations, sweetcheeks. I seen y'all eat cold beans right out of the tin on that bus and none of you have starved yet, although Vince looks like he's on his last legs. We got this.'

Deacon wrapped his arms around Rayna, and she dropped her head into his chest. 'I got an idea, baby.'

/

He was gone for an hour, Rayna spending much of the time apologising, though after the drinks Barb poured down her neck, she let it go a little. Her stomach was starting to growl right as she heard Deacon's truck pull up outside, his boots thudding up the front steps moments later.

'Dinner's served y'all,' he announced when Rayna pulled open the door for him. His arms were full with several brown paper bags, the unmistakable smell of fast food filling her nostrils.

'Are those… _Wendy's_ bags?' she asked, taking a couple of them from him and closing the door with her foot.

'Sure are, baby.'

'It's like Father fuckin' Christmas just landed on your roof,' Vince said, eyes wide, following them around to the kitchen and pulling plates from a cupboard.

'Burgers for Christmas dinner,' Rayna said, and finally she surrendered to the laughter bubbling up in her throat. 'I can not believe this is our first attempt at hosting - y'all are never gonna come back.'

'Are you kiddin' me?' Coleman said, taking plates from Vince and Deacon and transferring them to the coffee table. 'I'm coming back here every damn year if we get to eat burgers.'

'I'll be honest here, Rayna,' Barb confessed with a wince she really tried to hide, 'I was a little apprehensive about your cookin' skills anyway. And Deacon's are even worse, so some might say this is a mishap straight from the baby Jesus himself.'

Rayna carried the last plate over and sat herself down on the floor, surveying their feast: the table was loaded with piles of burgers, fries, an assortment of wings, mozzarella sticks, tubs of sauce. 'There's a part of me that wants to object to that,' she said, 'but there's a bigger part of me that is shocked we managed to boil potatoes without blowin' anythin' up.' She lifted up her glass. 'So… cheers, y'all. Tuck in!'

It was a greasy and delicious dinner, punctuated by belches from Barb, slurps of coke and murmurs of fast-food appreciation. Snow fell steadily outside as they ate, and the still-raw beef took up an entire shelf in the fridge, forgotten about.

This was how Tandy found them, sunk deep into their chairs or patches of rug in the king of all food comas, full of fries and lazy laughter. She let herself in the door when Rayna called out to her that it was unlocked, and stopped in her tracks, surveying the sight in surprise. Her tailored skirt suit and neatly coiffed hair stood out in stark contrast against the chaos of discarded wrappers and empty soda cups, and she took it all in with a look of wry amusement.

'Well,' she said, as Rayna scraped herself up from the couch to greet her sister with a hug, 'it certainly looks like y'all are havin' a merry Christmas. Is that Wendy's?'

'We sure are, and yes it is,' Rayna replied. 'You look beautiful'.

Tandy held her at arm's length, looking over her Christmas sweater. 'As do you, sis, though Daddy would have had a fit if you'd come around for dinner in that.' She jangled the little bell on Rudolph's nose experimentally.

'It was a gift from Vince,' Rayna said, and on cue, Vince wiped a dollop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth and stood up, giving a little bow of his head.

'You can take my seat,' he volunteered, oh so chivalrous, and Tandy tried really hard not to grimace as she looked at the dent in the cushion he'd left behind, one half-eaten jalapeno popper abandoned on a napkin on the arm.

'That's okay,' she said, fixing a polite smile on her face. 'I'm really just dropping by for a few minutes.' She gave Coleman and Audrey a hug hello, always more of an air-kisser than Rayna had ever been; Tandy had actually taken the childhood etiquette classes seriously. She even managed to return Deacon's embrace, though not exactly with warmth.

'Eggnog?' Rayna asked, already pouring one out.

'Daddy's driver dropped me off,' Tandy said, following her around the kitchen counter, 'so _absolutely_ eggnog.'

'How is Daddy, enjoying catching up on his emails in his study by now?'

'Oh you know him. He was already doing _that_ before we left.' Tandy shook her head, but she bore no resentment, her relationship with Lamar entirely different to Rayna's; it was almost as though they had two separate fathers. 'I missed you today,' she said, twirling a piece of Rayna's free-flowing hair around her little finger. 'I miss you every year at Christmas. Daddy does too, you know.'

Rayna laughed. 'Daddy does _not_ miss me, on Christmas or any other day, and we both know it. You, though - I'm real glad you're here.' She put an arm around her sister and handed her a glass, holding her own up in a toast.

Tandy took a long swig, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline as she swallowed the potent alcohol. 'I should've come around here hours ago,' she said, impressed. 'How was your tour? I'm so happy you're back in town.'

Rayna beamed. 'Oh tour is going so well Tandy, it's such fun. It's good to be home too for a little while, though. Sleepin' in my own bed is a luxury I'm definitely gonna make the most of this next couple of weeks.'

'You mean room service and maids aren't quite cutting it?'

Rayna smirked to herself, very aware how horrified she would be if she saw some of the questionable places they stayed while they were out on the road. 'Let's just say we're lucky if there's a pillow, let alone a maid.'

Tandy grimaced. 'Remind me never to discover a sudden passion for country music.' She downed half her glass and Rayna happily topped it up. 'And Deacon,' she asked, lowering her voice, 'how are things with you two?'

At the mere mention of his name, Rayna's stomach flipped. She looked at him over on the couch, guitars on his and Vince's knees as they quietly played a Christmas song. He glanced up at her as though he felt her eyes on him and grinned, and she felt a little blush creep into her cheeks. She looked up at Tandy, who was watching the exchange. 'Things are wonderful,' she said, and her sister sighed.

'He better be takin' damn good care of you. I've been taking jiu jitsu classes.' She cast her eyes around the kitchen. 'I thought you were making beef today, that recipe from mama's old cookbook?'

'Yeah… funny story about that. Let's just say it didn't quite go as planned.' Rayna hooked their arms together and steered her towards the fire and their little gathering. 'We have some leftover burgers though if you're hungry.'

'Fast food for Christmas dinner - I do not know where you got some of these genes.'

Rayna snorted. 'Oh please, you couldn't cook if your life depended on it. You just have a chef, in your _house_.'

Bucky stood up quickly and offered Tandy his seat with a glance at Vince, and she took it this time, thanking him graciously. For all she struggled to accept Rayna's life choices and the people she surrounded herself with, though she was supportive despite her misgivings, Bucky she'd always been fond of.

'Remember those dinners your mother used to make on Christmas when we were all kids?' Coleman asked Rayna and Tandy, moving to stand next to Bucky by the fireplace. 'She never even broke a sweat, not even with Lamar bellowing down the hallway.'

'I don't know how she did that,' Tandy mused, and Rayna plopped down on the rug by her feet, stretching her toes out towards the fire.

'I miss her most of all at Christmas,' she said quietly, to murmurs of agreement from Tandy and Coleman. She felt Deacon looking at her, and he started to play when she met his eyes. _If We Make It Through December_ , her mother's favourite, something she'd told him their first Christmas together, when they were just friends and it had only been a handful of years since her mother's accident. 'Oh,' she cooed, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning an arm on Tandy's knee while she listened.

It was maybe the first time Tandy had looked at Deacon without a hint of scepticism, and Rayna tore her eyes away to look up at her, her heart jumping at the soft, sweet expression she let herself wear in its place.

/

Tandy's few minutes turned into a few hours, a few too many drinks and a drunken rendition of Jingle Bells with Vince and Barb, and Christmas Day turned into the next. The roofs of the houses on the street were coated with a blanket of crisp snow by the time Deacon finally closed the front door, the last of their guests treading carefully down the stairs and into the night. Rayna, shivered beside him, gave one last wave goodbye, and let him lead her back to the couch.

'Well _that_ was a Christmas well spent,' Deacon said, voice croaky from entirely too much merriment.

Rayna nodded. Her favourite people in one room, her sister laughing and celebrating with her road family - it had been like a dream to her, joys too many to count. She watched the last of the embers in the hearth as they smoked and sizzled their way to ash, and felt a yawn that surely started from her toes.

'I'm so sleepy,' she told Deacon, curling into him, her head on his chest, 'but I don't want to go to bed - I don't want today to end.'

'So let's not go to bed,' he said, as reluctant as she was to call it a night. 'We can stay right here on this couch, baby. And if we fall asleep, it'll be like we just took a Christmas nap.'

She could hear his heartbeat, feel its gentle, melodic thud against her cheek. Her eyes closed of their own will. 'I like that idea.'

Deacon kissed her forehead, nestling them both down further into the cushions and pulling a blanket off the arm to cover them with.

Rayna's breathing grew deeper, her body sinking into him. 'Merry Christmas, Deacon.'

It was barely audible, tinged with sleep, and he smiled. 'Merry Christmas Ray,' he whispered. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes too was her face on the album cover, illuminated by the soft lights, still in its pride of place at the top of the tree.


End file.
